


where land meets ocean

by indigo_penstrokes



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Alternate Universe - Surfers, Beach Movie AU, F/F, M/M, ambiguous time period, its a beach movie folks, its like 50s/60s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_penstrokes/pseuds/indigo_penstrokes
Summary: brooklyn are surfers, they live for the waves and the rush that comes from riding them. manhattan are bikers, they get their thrills from pushing the speed limit and building the machines to get them there. they're as different as can be, but when their home away from home is threatened will the two be able to join forces with the help of an intrepid reporter to save it?
Relationships: Buttons/JoJo (Newsies), David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Joey/Rafaela (Newsies), Kid Blink/Mush Meyers, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 41
Kudos: 66





	1. surf's up!

_July 17, Bowery Beach_

Bowery Beach: a small stretch of sand, no longer than three quarters of a mile and sitting on the western edge of a small town. In a word the beach is picturesque. Blue green waters capped with rolling waves nine days out of ten. Golden sand that sparkles in the midday sunshine and stays warm long into the night. It even has dunes that are home to a plethora of native grasses that wave in the sea breezes. All kinds of sea birds take to the skies above it, their calls heard above the crash of the waves. But grasses and wildlife aren’t the only thing this beach has become the home for.

Half a dozen surfers have staked a claim to these aureate sands with their brightly colored surfboards and even brighter patterned shirts. These self proclaimed kings of the beach were lead by none other than local hazard Spot Conlon.

Spot Conlon who would rather spend the day in the waves with his gang of so called delinquents than worry about whatever rumors were circling about him at that time. And it turns out when someone doesn’t give two shits what the world thinks about him, he rakes up a persona that scares away the typical teenager without even trying. It’s not like he minded, if the world thought he was frightening and angry all the time because he beat the shit out of a bully for picking on Rafaela that one time three years ago then so be it, since contrary to public belief Spot was a fairly laid back guy as long as you didn’t piss him off. 

Spot was now currently dozing slightly on the sand, enjoying the warm rays of sun after nearly a week of rain and grey skies. Off in the distance he heard Rafaela cackle and a loud splash, his mind’s eye created an image of Raf watching Hotshot fall off his board yet again as he tried to perfect his aerial. He smiled to himself when he heard a waterlogged “fuck you!” in what was unmistakably Hotshot’s voice. 

“Still can’t land it then?” He teased, voice loud enough to be heard over the static like crash of the waves as he sat up.

“Fuck you too Spotty, why don’t you come try it then?” Hotshot fired back, but smiling widely as the surf lapped around his ankles. He was lucky that Spot didn’t push him back under after calling him Spotty, that was probably one of the downsides about growing up with the asshole. 

But it seemed he hadn't needed to worry about it since Rafaela had it under control as she aimed a well placed shove to Hotshot’s chest and sent him tumbling into the waves. 

Spot stood, shrugging out of his shirt before picking his red and ivory board out of the sand. “You ready to see how it's done?”

Without waiting for a response he ran past the pair and dove into the waves like, well like a fish into water. He paddled out past the breaking waves, arms pushing himself through the rough water like it was nothing. Surfing was in his blood at this point. If you took a blood sample from Spot Conlon the results would come back as 85% saltwater and another 15% sheer determination. He used that fifteen percent to its full extent as he got his bearings on the board, ready to tackle a swell twice his size. Board securely under his feet he glided down the wave, gaining as much speed as he could, then at the last moment before the wave crested he jerked to the right, sending him and the board into the sky. He let out a whoop as his stomache dropped out from beneath him in a moment of pure unadulterated joy. He spun nearly a full three-sixty as he came back down, riding the rest of the wave until it lapped up onto the beach. 

Spot couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face when he saw the mini crowd his showing off had attracted. Hotshot looked like he was caught somewhere between utterly awestruck and nursing a freshly bruised ego as Joey came over to pat him on the shoulder. Hildy and York just looked impressed as they stood stoically by the collection of surfboards, though their stoicness was somewhat ruined by their bright grins. Meanwhile Rafaela was a flurry of energy as she practically launched herself at Spot.

“That was sick as hell Spot, you got like at least three feet of air under that!” She punched his arm a little too hard, her violently magenta shirt flaring out behind her like a cape when she ran over. It was the same color and pattern as the scarf she had her hair tied up in, it was kind of impressive she could find the same kind of fabric for both.

“That was nothing, give me bigger waves and I’ll show you some serious air.” He grinned as he slung the arm that wasn’t holding his board around Raf’s shoulers, feeling completely in his element as he gave her a small squeeze.

Nothing else could possibly make this day any better.

“Let’s go grab sodas at Medda’s!” Rafaela cried, eyes wide and happy as the rest of the gang cheered in agreement.

Okay maybe one thing could make it better.

“Alright assholes, let’s go,” he pretended to grumble, but his tough guy persona didn’t work on them even on a good day so they all just laughed and smiled even wider as they grabbed their boards and started to towel themselves off. Their laughter ringing loud and true over the waves and seagull cries.

Yeah, today had been a pretty great day. 

By the time they had made it to Medda’s the salt had dried in all of their hair and the starts of sunburns were starting to show on their shoulders, but they couldn’t bothered enough to care. They all crammed into their usual corner booth and sent Hotshot to get drinks since he had made it there last. Which _totally isn’t a fair way to do this guys!_

He then returned with an armful of bottles of varying colors and contents. 

“Let’s see, I’ve got cokes for Joey, York and myself.” He handed the green glass bottles to the two in back corner who were discussing something that sounded like the mechanics of making the best board.

“A raspberry for Rafaela.” She blew him a kiss after taking a long sip of the berry soda, her lips already starting to tint purple. “You’re welcome.”

“Cream soda for Hildy though I have no idea how you drink the stuff.” The tall girl just shrugged as if to say _to each their own._

“And for our wondrous Spotty a cherry soda the color of everything he has ever owned.” Spot just flipped him the bird as Hotshot squeezed into the miniscule space next to him. 

The group quickly dissolved into a comfortable conversation about the days events. How Hotshot couldn’t land an aerial if his life depended on it. Whether or not Rafaela had a shirt scarf combo in every color imaginable (she did, to no one’s surprise). Even what the weather looked like for the next couple of days (near perfect waves and lots of sun). 

Then they heard the soft roar of what was unmistakably motorcycles. Five of them to be exact.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Spot muttered to himself as the front door swung open.

If Spot and his gang ruled the waves Jack Kelly and his band of misfits owned the streets. 

Jack Kelly should have been the one with a reputation like Spot’s, he had the entire Bad Boy look down cold. Slicked back hair that never seemed to stay in place, leather jacket that fit his shoulders just perfectly, and on top of that he had a motorcycle that probably got more of his attention than any of the girls that were always fawning over him. But what he lacked in intimidation he made up for in his ability to charm the pants off of anyone he chose with a crooked smile and a few smooth words. It was aggravating. 

Now he stood in the doorway of Medda’s, sunglasses pushed up on his head and a bright grin on his face. He didn’t stay there long instead striding over to the bar and calling out, “The usual please Miss Medda.”

“Glare any harder and you might set this place on fire,” Hotshot commented nonchalantly around the straw in his coke. 

“I am not glaring,” Spot snapped without malice, gaze landing back on his drink and a concerned looking Rafaela who had an eyebrow raised at him from across the table. He shook his head at her, _I’m fine_ he mouthed.

“You are, and if you weren’t glaring at Kelly til your head bursts you might have noticed who else just walked in.” He nudged Spot’s side with a bony elbow.

Turning as much as he could without being obvious he spotted (ha!) the other members of Jacky Boy’s crew all crammed into a booth not unlike Spot was himself. But that wasn’t what Hotshot had meant. No he had meant the tall blond boy who currently had his back to Spot, giving him a full view of the dozen or so patches he had sewed almost haphazardly to the back of his black leather jacket. Then Jack shouted something across the room, the fucking loud mouth, that caused the biker to turn around, and Spot’s heart kicked into overdrive against his internal protests. If asked why he would say that it was the sheer atrocity that was Racetrack Higgins’ hair, slicked back with no less than a pound of grease, or the way he looked right at home in the place that was Spot’s home away from home. He could even blame it on Race’s stupidly painted nails that never stayed not chipped for longer than a day and half. But no one was asking and Spot would very much like to keep it that way.

Then as though Racetrack could feel the weight of his gaze, turned his head just enough to shoot a wink his way. It made his stomache do a sickening swoop like he had just crested a monster wave.

“Fuck you, Ferreri.” Spot took a long drink, downing nearly the rest of the bottle. His face still felt too warm for his liking.

“It’s not me who you should be fucking,” Hotshot muttered just loud enough for Spot to hear.

Hotshot hit the floor with a resounding thud that caused Rafaela to let loose another loud cackle, which then set the rest of them laughing louder than what was probably appropriate. Big guffaws and crows-like caws filling up the room and making them all clutch their sides.

“Hey can you keep it down over there!” A familiar voice called out over the noise.

Spot glanced up to see a cocky smirk from a few booths over. 

“If we wanted to hear the seagulls screaming we’d be down by the beach.” Race’s smirk grew wider once he saw he had Spot’s attention, the bastard. 

“Oh yeah? Well I hate it to break it to you but you’re already there sweetheart,” Spot fired back with the same amount of bite, rather pleased with the light shade of pink his rival’s cheeks flushed. He had to admit bantering with Race was addictive.

“You saying we don’t belong here Conlon?” Race strode over to their table in a few long strides, hands tucked cooly in his pockets. His features were schooled into one of practiced coolness that held what most would see as a hidden edge. But not Spot, no he knew exactly what that look meant.

Spot made no move to get up, instead he took another sip of his soda, not once breaking eye contact with Racetrack. “I never said that. It sounds like you’re putting words in my mouth Higgins.” 

“Am I now?” Race raised a brow and Spot felt his friends tense around him. They didn’t know where this was going, but Spot sure did.

“Are you?” He countered, leaning up every so slightly to get as close to in Race’s face as he could despite still being seated. From his angle he could see how hard Race was fighting to not break out into one of his truly radiant grins, the ones that light up his entire face. The left corner of his mouth had just started to tick up when Jack appeared over Race’s left shoulder. Spot tried to ignore the swell of disapointment that flooded through his chest at the sight.

“C’mon Racer, drop it.” Jack had a hand on his second’s shoulder, pulling him away, but not before Race could slip in a barely there wink and smile. If Spot had blinked he would have missed it.

“You should listen to Jacky Boy here, _Racer._ ” Spot couldn’t help the jab, especially since it pissed off both bikers. Though he knew it didn’t really bother Race, but they both liked to play along.

Now with his attention focused back on the table of rowdy surfers he noticed the face Rafaela was making in his direction. It looked like she knew more than she ought to but was still putting all the pieces she had together, hopefully she was still missing enough to not see the picture. It was an unsettling expression but in a flash it was gone and a much more mischievous one was in its place as she tried to swipe a sip of Joey’s coke. 

Spot finished off his cherry soda, just watching his band of dumbasses. He was proud to call them his friends, they all knew that, or at least he hoped they did. And that thought must have showed on his face because before he knew it Hotshot was elbowing his side again.

“What d’you have bouncing around up there?” 

“Nothing much.” Hotshot snorted. “Fuck off, I was gonna say that we should probably bounce if we want to catch more waves before it gets dark.” 

And he was right, the sun was low in the sky and if he had to guess it was probably around six, so they could squeeze another two hours in if they moved fast. 

“You all heard the man, lets blow this joint!” Hotshot was met with more whoops and hollers as they all pushed and shoved one another to get out of the booth. Mostly they succeeded in tripping each other, Spot was pretty sure he saw Rafaela stick a leg out in front of York as they ran towards the door.

As they all exited the shop Spot made sure to find Race one more time, shooting him a quick look. _I’ll see you later?_

Race’s half covered grin and eyeroll were answer enough. _Yes you dumbass._

Spot couldn’t fight the grin that stretched across his face as he jogged to catch up with the rest of the gang. Maybe it was the sugar and carbonation that made him feel like he was going to jump out of his skin in the best meaning of the phrase, but he knew it wasn’t that. Bright blue eyes and a snarky comment were much more effective on that front. 

He kept on smiling as he jumped back into the ocean with his board.

Yeah, today had been really fucking good.


	2. fallin' for ya

_July 17, Bowery Beach_

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting the world in shades of lilac and gold. Race would have enjoyed the sunset much more if he didn’t feel like someone had replaced all of his blood with cherry soda, popping and fizzing under his skin. 

Jack had given him a Talk about not starting more shit Spot and blah blah blah. It was rich coming from the guy who started fights more often than he should have. _If only Jack knew,_ the thought had made him snort, which in turn made Jack frown deeper. But they had settled back into their usual boisterous selves soon after, all enjoying the sugar and caffeine rush from their sodas.

Now two hours had passed, and they didn’t look like they were going to stop anytime soon. Buttons was up on the makeshift stage with Blink as they sang about falling in love. Or at least that’s what Race thought they were singing about since he was having trouble focusing. The conversations and other noise happening around him had faded to a sort of static as his brain was keen on looping the last look Spot had shot his way before leaving. 

He let out a soft groan, he had it _bad_. It was to the point where Spot could get under his skin with nothing more than a few sharp witted remarks, ones that he parried with ease but that left him feeling sort of breathless. In fact when Spot was in the picture it was hard to bother with anything in the world that wasn’t Spot Conlon. Why should he care about something as trivial as what all his friends thought when he had Spot right there, eyes bright and lips stained cherry red from his soda. Lips that he wished he didn’t have to sneak around to feel on his own. 

JoJo leaned her head on his shoulder, effectively pulling him out of his Spot centric spiral of thinking with a start. His knees hit the underside of the table painfully. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Her tone was light, teasing, almost as if she knew exactly what was running through Race’s head. She had always known him best, sometimes when he didn’t even know himself. But right now she was looking up at him with something an awful lot like concern in her grey eyes and a small crease in her brow. It made his stomach twist, and not in a good way.

“Just that you should keep the penny.” He smirked softly, drumming his thumbs on the table, a release of pent up energy. An energy that crackled just under the surface of his skin, a low buzz of _how much longer?_

“I think I’m going to get some air,” he said after a few moments of nothing between them. Buttons had started a new song as he patted his pockets. _Where had he put that pack of cigarettes?_

JoJo pulled herself back up, a single eyebrow raised in his direction. But Race just shrugged and slipped out of the booth, feeling her gaze on him the whole way to the door. 

Finally outside he felt like he could breathe again. The sky was a dusty violet, turning shadows a royal blue and making everything softer around the edges. He pulled out a smoke as he rounded the side of the small building, the breeze coming from the beach made him smile. Lighting the cigarette he leaned against the still sunwarmed bricks of Medda’s, eyes scanning over the figures that were still out on the waves in the last dregs of daylight. 

It was easy to find Spot, not because of his height, but just by how he carried himself. Even with the good distance between them Race could see the amount of confidence that Spot held. He knew what he was doing at all times and he made sure everyone else around him knew that too. He wielded it like a sword, ready to use it against those who wronged him or hurt his family. 

He smiled softly, smoke curling up past his lips and into the sky. It seemed Spot had noticed him, took him long enough, and was making an excuse to jog up the beach towards Race. He opted to ignore the warmth that flickered to life in his chest at the sight of sea swept hair and freckled shoulders. 

“Can’t stay away from me huh, can you Conlon?” Race chirped on a stream of smoke once Spot got close enough. 

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night.” But Spot’s eyes were soft and it was doing things to his insides, so he took another long drag on his cigarette. The burning end nearly to his fingers. 

“If you keep looking at me like that -” He trailed off, not really sure where he was going with it. Spot seriously scrambled his brain when they were alone, no rivalry act to give him a script to play by. So instead he just watched the smoke travel up, up, up and away. It was easier than studying the way Spot's smile quirked up higher on the right than the left, or the planes of his chest that was practically on display underneath his unbuttoned, and might he add _sleeveless_ , hawaiian shirt. Yeah, it was a lot easier.

“Like what?” Spot stepped closer, deft fingers snatching the stub of a cigarette and putting it out on the wall behind Race, effectively drawing his attention back to him. When Race still didn’t have a reply he smirked wider. “Like I want to kiss you until I can’t breathe anymore? Like I want to take you apart piece by piece until I know exactly what makes you tick? Looking at you like that?” 

Spot didn’t even have to kiss him to leave him struggling to breathe. “Shit Spot, keep talking like that and I might think you don’t actually hate me.”

“Oh I don’t think that’ll be a problem, your stupid hair makes sure I can’t ever like you.” He took another step closer, crowding Race against the wall. Not that he minded, especially with the way Spot’s attention was focused solely on him.

“Aren’t you the charmer.” His lips quirked up into a smirk as his hands settled on Spot’s hips, fiddling with the edge of his open shirt with his thumb and forefinger. The fabric was soft, the kind of soft that came from being worn often and loved dearly. He idly wondered what it would be like to wear one of Spot’s shirts. It would probably smell like salt and sea and whatever soap Spot used.

“I don’t see you complaining.” Spot put a hand right at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and he swore to any and all higher beings that he could feel the heat of Spot’s palm through the leather of his jacket. 

Then the hand slid up to cup his jaw and pull him forward those last few inches. 

If bantering with Spot was addictive then kissing him was downright intoxicating. It felt like speeding down the highway and falling through the sky all at once as he and Spot moved together, all hungry mouths and searching hands. Despite his never ending complaints about it Spot threaded his fingers through the ungreased part of Race’s hair where it just barely curled near the nape of his neck. Race loved every second of it. He devoured every little detail like his life depended on remembering all of it. 

His hands trailed up Spot’s sides before coming to rest on his shoulders, marveling at the movement of muscles he could feel beneath the fabric. And now, that just wouldn’t do, so in a quick movement he pushed the offending garment off Spot’s shoulder, delighting in how Spot didn’t once stop the kiss, now turned full on make out, to get his arms free of the red shirt. 

“Fuck Spot,” he breathed out, completely lost to everything that was Spot Conlon. One of his hands, the one that wasn’t in his hair, had come to grip his hip. This time he definitely felt the warmth from the contact and it went right to his chest, fluttering around his racing heart. 

Spot broke away, a new mischievous glint in his eyes. Now if that hadn’t sent Race’s head reeling then the lips at his throat definitely did. This was new. And he couldn’t possibly get enough of it.

“This alright?” Spot’s voice was rough around the edges, as though he was as wrecked as Race felt. 

“ _God yes._ ” He didn’t even care if Spot left a mark, or a few for that matter, that was a problem for future Racetrack to sort out. 

But it seemed future Racetrack was nearer than present Race expected when a voice rounded the corner. 

“Hey Race can I bum -” JoJo stopped dead in her tracks, at least her mouth wasn’t hanging wide open, as her brain caught up with what she was seeing. But she was still standing there, clear as day in her dark jacket, hair pulled back with a powder blue bandana, the knot giving her the appearance of antenna, and she was staring right at the two of them.

“Shit. JoJo. Fuck.” Race began to panic, the emotion swelling up like a tsunami in his chest. He pushed at Spot who had finally looked up to see what had gotten Race panicked. “I- Fuck.”

Spot moved first, grabbing his shirt from where it lay discarded on the sand covered pavement. Race didn’t miss the way his hands shook as he shrugged it back on. Spot was as scared as he was, and that was to say absolutely shitless. That alone made his stomach churn. Spot was the brave one, not him. 

“Later Higgins,” Spot grunted out, but the look in his eyes was pleading. _Please don’t let this be the end._

And then he was gone, already halfway down the beach, hands shoved into the pockets of his boardshorts. 

Silence rang through the air again as Race stared at the place where Spot had been, still not quite comprehending how the last thirty seconds had actually happened.

“So Conlon huh?” JoJo broke the silence, trying for levity despite the heaviness of the situation. She at least had the good sense to look sorry. But that wasn’t enough to stop the hot swell of emotion that flooded through Race like a wildfire.

“Just fuck off okay,” he snapped, trying to push past her. He needed to get out of there. He needed to not be forced to talk about whatever the hell this was. He needed everything to just stop and give him a second to think. 

He needed Spot back. _Shit._

“No.” She grabbed his arm, the girl was deceptively strong as she held him in place, eyes full of determination.

“What the hell do you mean no? Let go of me.” He tried to rip his arm away. He must have looked like a madman, eyes wild and breathing labored as he tried to keep the panic from overwhelming him. “I am not talking about this with you.” 

She let go of his arm. 

He didn’t run away. 

Both of them stood in shocked silence.

“I’m not asking you too.” She squared her shoulders and despite having always been only an inch or so shorter than Race she finally looked big, like she was making herself take up space. Like she needed him to really see her. “I’m telling you that I’m here for you. I love you Race, nothing will ever change that.” 

Race just nodded slowly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “So you’re not mad?” 

JoJo looked shell shocked for a second before rambling, “What? No, of course not. I don’t care that you’re hooking up with a surfer. Maybe a little confused as to why you picked Spot Conlon of all people in the world. But definitely not mad. I could never be mad at you, not for this at least.”

“Oh.” Was all he could manage. She wasn’t going to rat him out to Jack, not that she ever would, but the fear she might have was still there. But he did notice that air was getting into his lungs a little bit easier. “Okay.”

“Are you okay?” And there was the patented Concerned Josephina Joanne de la Guerra Look he was all too familiar with. Complete with big grey eyes and creased forehead. She really did care more than anyone else he had ever met.

“I think it’s too early to say for sure.” He glanced back down to the beach, all of the surfers were long gone but the waves rolled on. His heart let out a sharp pang. “I should probably head home. Tell the guys I wasn’t feeling too good.” 

JoJo just nodded, not wanting to push things more with her questions. “Take care of yourself Racetrack.” 

It was Race’s turn to nod as he walked to where his bike was parked. He ran a hand through his hair, which was probably a mistake as his hand came away sticky, but he just sighed before kicking the engine into gear. The bike roared to life under his touch and before he knew it he was speeding back towards home, a kaleidoscope of questions and worries spinning around his head.

He needed to talk to Spot.

Tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day.


	3. the meet is sweet

_July 19, Kloppman’s Garage_

Kloppman and Sons Autobody Shop has been around for decades, so many in fact that the original sons from the buildings name have long since retired and the last remaining grandson, and now sole owner, is getting up there in the number of years he has accumulated under his belt. But he's a kind man, always ready with a timeless smile and the words a person needs to hear. So maybe that's how his garage became the home away from home for a ragtag group of teens and their various motorcycles and cars. Or maybe he did it because he saw the reflection of himself in one Jack Kelly, in his fierce loyalty and need to protect those he loved. Either way, he wouldn't change it for the world.

Now it seemed that Jack’s love for his friends, no his _family_ , was going to be his undoing. 

The garage had been fairly quiet since they had all arrived around ten that morning, well, nearly all of them. And it was there which lay the problem: the garage was never, ever, quiet. It was that quiet and lack of a Racetrack shaped being that made Jack antsy. Hell he couldn’t even focus on fixing up the sick as hell Ford GT Kloppman had given him to service. 

“Has anyone seen Race?” The question finally bubbled out of him after he dropped his socket wrench for the third time. It had been almost two days since he last saw Race, and it wasn’t like him to just disappear without warning. Whenever he needed a break he at least made sure to tell Jack, it was just their system. Or at least it had been.

“I saw him leaving Medda’s the other day, said he wasn’t feeling great and needed to head home.” JoJo just shrugged, as if that was just regular old Race and nothing to be worried about. But Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else happening that he couldn’t see. “He’s probably just got some summer cold.”

“Do you think one of use should go check on him, make sure he isn’t dead and all that?” Albert asked, pushing himself out from underneath a coke bottle green pickup truck. If Race hadn’t told Albert anything then something was definitely up, the two were practically inseparable along with JoJo rounding out their trio. 

Jack bit his lip. Could this be about Race’s spat with Spot the other night at Medda’s? Sure Spot had some long standing beef with Jack, but there’s no way he would have taken it out on Race, right? The thought of Spot going after Race and leaving him in a bloody puddle somewhere rose unbidden in his mind. _Get a grip Jack, Spot’s not your friend but he isn’t that much of a heartless asshole. He’s not Oscar or Morris._

Jack’s inner turmoil was cut short suddenly by the familiar growl of an engine as it pulled up to the open bay doors. He half expected it to be Race, complete with lopsided grin and a terrible joke at the ready. But it wasn’t him. Not even close. 

The rider, or rather riders, plural, that sat atop the killer bike wore helmets and aviator sunglasses. But even with the obstructions Jack could tell these two weren’t the garages’s run of the mill clients. It might have been the way they slowed to a careful stop, as if the driver still wasn’t completely comfortable controlling his bike, or maybe it was how they were both lacking the usual leather jacket that all bikers seemed to own. Whichever it was they were both strikingly out of place at the mouth of the garage. 

It felt like everyone was holding their breath. _Who were these people?_

The driver cut the engine just as his passenger dismounted. Once they had both dismounted Jack noticed how they stood at nearly the same height and build, slim but strong. And then they took their helmets off and Jack would be lying if he said he wasn’t struck just a little bit breathless. Okay maybe a lot breathless. But where did he even start with these two without saying they were possibly the most gorgeous people he had ever seen. 

The girl was wearing a gingham button up shirt the color of beach sand, the sleeves rolled messily up past her elbows to reveal grease stained forearms. Her hair was honey brown in the afternoon sun and pulled up and away from her face with a few hair barrettes, and even then a few strands had come free to frame her face. She was a force to be reckoned with in her rolled up jeans and chuck taylors, and Jack was suddenly struck with how disappointed he was that he didn’t have his sketchbook with him. He wanted to somehow translate this girl’s air of easy confidence onto paper so he could paint it. Her strength and ability to fit in, or stand out for that matter, anywhere she chose to. And standing right there in the mouth of the garage, backlight by sun with her grease spotted hands on her hips, she looked right at home.

The guy she was with was a completely different story. Sure he had the same stature as she did, but where she made sure you saw her for all she was he looked as though he wanted people to just pass by, like he didn’t want to be noticed.

But Jack did, and did he ever. 

The guy had pushed his sunglasses up into his curly hair that was a shade or two darker than his companion’s, and was now trying not to squint into the darker garage. Jack thought it was endearing. His clothes were of a similar fashion of his partners, albeit cleaner. His shirt was such a pale blue it was nearly white, and it's sleeves were neatly rolled up to just above his elbows. There were no grease stains on his skin. He wore a slim pair of jeans that were nearly worn out in the knees, as if he kneeled down a lot and had worn them thin. Jack's fingers itched to draw him. To draw the way his brow was creased, the hunch of his shoulders, even the way he still managed to make you look despite everything about him pointing to the contrary. Jack had never been one for puzzles, but he wanted to piece together everything about the boy before him no matter how long it took. He wanted to earn this boy’s love, since it seemed he’d already stolen Jack’s heart.

“Does anyone know where we can find a spark plug for a VW Beetle?” When no one made a move to answer the girl, she soldiered on, stepping fully into the garage and taking off her sunglasses. “Well?”

“Well, it looks like you're in the right place.” Jack snapped into action, striding over to the pair maybe just a bit too eager. “The name’s Jack Kelly.”

He stuck out his hand which the girl took in a firm shake. 

“Sarah Jacobs,” she introduced herself, smiling warmly at him. Yeah, he was definitely going to end up painting her at some point. It would be a crime not to.

“Nice to meet ya Sarah Jacobs.” He turned to her companion, hand still outstretched. “And that makes you?”

“David, David Jacobs.” He -David- frowned at Jack’s hand.

Ah, so they were siblings not a couple, Jack ignored the way relief flooded through him at that notion. It definitely explained the similarities in their appearances and the air of easy familiarity they had around each other. What it didn’t explain was the way David was still frowning at him.

“You have grease all over your hand,” he said simply, like he was stating a rather unpleasant fact and not critiquing Jack’s personal hygiene. Yet it still managed to make Jack’s heart flutter like a songbird.

“Ah, sorry.” Jack wiped the offending hand on a rag he kept tucked in his back pocket. “Better?”

“Very much so.” David shook his hand then, and Jack swore he held on for just a moment longer than necessary, a slight upturn to his mouth. Not that he was staring at his mouth. Definitely not that. 

“Now for that sparkplug.” He turned back to Sarah, but she was already talking to JoJo and Crutchie, presumably about the sparkplug, which left him standing with David. 

He must have been frowning slightly since David let out a soft chuckle. 

“Yeah, she’s a woman on a mission who waits for no man.” David was staring out at the garage, not looking at Jack as he scuffed his shoes against the cement floor, it was as if he were talking to himself and not Jack. 

“I can see that, wow. She’s going to have JoJo fawning all over her if she keeps talking cars, and Buttons might actually have competition for once.” Jack was for sure rambling now, a side effect of being around an attractive guy with a steller bike. 

David let out another laugh, not quite a full one, but he did throw his head back a bit and Jack counted that as a win. Especially when David smiled brighter than the sunshine that haloed his head. He was definitely going to save a mental picture of that moment so he could get it captured in acrylic paint later.

“Why don’t you tell me about this beauty you rode into our lovely abode on.” He turned on as much charm as he could, which still wasn’t all he had, not in his incapacitated state. David’s smile really should have come with a public safety announcement that talked about it’s adverse charming effects. 

“It’s not much, just something that I fixed up in my free time.” David shrugged, as if it was nothing. “My brother and I found it a few months ago in a junkyard, and I swear it was like we had found a lost puppy with the way he didn’t want to leave it behind, but there’s an eleven year old for you always full of surprises. So we took it home, Ma was _thrilled_ , but after a lot of reading and researching with Sarah, I finally figured out what was wrong with it. Broken choke line, if you were wondering. Easy fix and before you knew it the bike was street ready. So I now can ride around town on a motorcycle that is way cooler than I will ever be.” 

Jack just let out a low whistle. Who was this boy to just find a bike, and fix it without any prior experience with anything vehicular. “Damn Jacobs, that’s one hell of a story. And for the record you’re pretty cool, with or without the bike.” 

“If you really think so.” And there was that deflection again, which just wouldn’t do. 

“Nah, I know so.” He bumped his shoulder into David’s, smiling brighter when David bumped him back, the ghost of a smile on his face. “The guys are gonna head out to grab shakes at Medda’s around six, you should come. They’d all love you. C’mon Davey.”

“I don’t really think-” David’s face had turned a light shade of pink as he looked for ways to tell Jack no, which again, just would not do. 

“Sarah should come too, it looks like she’s made a few friends already.” Jack nodded to where Sarah was gesturing with a box in her hand, probably telling a story, while Buttons, JoJo, and Crutchie watched with rapt attention before dissolving into a fit of laughter. It looked like if things went well that Sarah and David would become permanent fixtures around the garage, or at least Jack hoped they would.

“I guess maybe,” David sighed, any resolve he’s had dissolving into a small grin. “Are you sure they won’t mind, I don’t want to mess up the good thing you guys have going.” 

“Yeah I’m sure, but let’s double check.” He took a deep breath before yelling at a volume probably louder than necessary, but that was totally worth the shocked smile that split David’s face, even if he covered it with a hand immediately, “Hey guys, do you care if David and Sarah join us at Medda’s later?” 

A resounding chorus of cheers erupted from the gathered bikers, and a loud “Fuck yeah!” came from Sarah.

“Told ya they wouldn’t mind.” His already ridiculous smile just grew wider when he saw David just shaking his head, but the remains of the bright grin on his face were unmistakable. Jack made it a mission of his to get David to smile more, public safety be damned. 

“You’re impossible Jack.” But David sounded fond even as he tried to school his features into a look of disappointment, ultimately failing when he couldn’t keep the whisper of a smile from his lips.

“Maybe so.” Jack shrugged, but he was smirking. Impossible was just one of the many words that described the infamous Jack Kelly. One of the nicer ones too. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, David raking his eyes over the garage and all it held and Jack watching David; how he fidgeted with the untucked hem of his shirt and how he smiled softly when he found something in the open building interesting. Jack’s heart beat a little more erratically in his chest the longer he watched the boy next to him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Yeah he was definitely fucked, damn his romantic heart.

That was until another car pulled into the lot just outside the building, parking right in front of the open garage door, which in itself wasn’t unusual. But then the people inside the car got out and Jack’s blood turned to ice.

“Is there a Mr. Kloppman around here?” Morris Delancey sneered, looking around the garage with the air of someone who smelled something foul. Though the only foul things around were him and his brother.

“His name’s on the building ain’t it?” Jack snarked, he didn’t have time for these bullies or whatever business they had. His stomach was a roiling sea of anger, guilt, and something burning that he couldn’t put a name to. 

Morris held up his hands, a mocking show of no offense. “No reason to get pissy, we’ve just been instructed to talk to the old man about a certain new business opportunity.” 

“Who the hell are you to talk about “business opportunies” both of you couldn’t even pass ninth grade english,” Buttons hurled the insult loud and clear from the back of the garage and the rest of the bikers barked out cold laughter, even Sarah, and he heard David snicker off to his right.

Morris held out his arm to stop Oscar from running into the garage and bashing her skull in. “Someone who gets paid more than you ever will.” 

Jack went to tell the brothers to fuck off and to never show their faces again or he would make sure they couldn’t, but the door to Kloppman’s office banged open (the hinges still needed fixing) effectively cutting off anything he could have said. 

“Come into my office boys.” It wasn’t Kloppman’s usual warm tone, no it was cold, heartless even. As though he was preparing for something that would be highly unpleasant. 

The Delancey’s strolled into the garage, smirking as though they owned the place. It made Jack’s blood boil.

“See you on the street Kelly,” Oscar hissed as he shoved into Jack’s shoulder. 

“Ready to get your ass beat again so soon Oscar? I thought you would want some time after that last race,” Jack spat at his back that was already retreating into Kloppman’s office. 

The door shut with a snap and the garage was suspended in its state of quiet anger. 

“Anyone want to tell me who those goons were?” David spoke up, anger clear as crystal in his steady voice. “Because I’m not one for hating without reason, but it feels like there is a very good reason here.”

“Those were the Delancey brothers, they’ve got rot for brains and like to make things bleed.” Crutchie’s voice was hard and cold, as he glared daggers at the office door. His unspoken meaning rang louder than his anger to Jack’s ears. 

“They’re a piss poor excuses for human beings,” Albert spat as he violently wiped his hands with a rag to hide how much they were shaking. 

The rest of the garage murmured in agreement. Their ire was palpable in the air, what the pair had done to Crutchie at the forefronts of their minds. Jack didn’t think any of them would ever forget that horror filled night or any of the other painful memories the Delancey’s brought to the surface.

“I see.” David nodded in understanding, but the tight set of his shoulders betrayed the fury his words masked. Jack was almost caught off guard by it, David seemed like a pretty laid back guy, but he guessed that the saying about books and covers did hold some truth.

Sarah had appeared by David’s side again, a hand on his shoulder. He relaxed a bit, but the traces of fight were still lingering in the clench of his jaw and the shine of his eyes. Then they shared a look that Jack couldn’t even begin to decipher and David’s shoulders relaxed completely. The look was gone in a flash and Sarah spoke up. 

“It was great meeting you all, but we should probably get going, I want to get my car running before the sun sets.” She smiled, but it was tight around the edges and Jack knew a getaway attempt when he saw one. “We’ll see you guys at Medda’s later, yeah?” 

And like that the tension was lessened and Jack took a deep breath as the bikers went on about their work. He could still feel them simmering, but at least they hadn’t outright scared off the siblings, he really didn’t want to lose them. 

“Yeah, we’ll see you two then.” He dropped a wink in their direction for good measure, one that made Sarah just grin and shake her head, and David blush. His chest loosened slightly at that.

The pair gave them a small wave before riding off, leaving Jack with a chest full of butterflies and the need for six to come as fast as possible. That bright feeling wasn’t even touched by the vileness the Delancey’s spewed as they left the garage. He had just given them the bird until their car screeched out of the lot, off to raise hell somewhere else. 

Jack just took another few deep breaths before throwing himself completely back into working on the GT once their car was out of sight. If he was going to have to wait out a few more hours until the gang left for Medda’s he might as well get as much work done as he could, and if it helped keep his thoughts in line about a certain bright eyed biker then that was just an added bonus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're just getting into the main plot now and we've met david and sarah as well as the rest of the manhattan crew which only leaves a few more (namely katherine and denton but don't worry we'll get there soon). sarah's outfit is very heavily inspired by the ones i found [here](https://pin.it/w2kg6o3v6k5xks) and david's is most like the center guy's in this one [here](https://pin.it/wis3aldrh3nys3)


	4. boys like me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update, life got in the way a bit and i'm probably gonna move to having one update a week from here on out

_July 19, The Jacobs’ Residence_

Five forty had rolled around and David was sure he was going to lose his connection to gravity and float up, away, and into the stars. He had to fight to stay grounded, his thoughts a swirling storm that threatened to sweep him away. He took a deep breath, leveling a steady gaze with his reflection. His shirt was neat and only slightly wrinkled as it was the same one he had worn out earlier, but his hair refused to lie any flatter, even as he ran a hand through it again. 

“Dave this is the third time you’ve fixed your hair in the last five minutes,” Sarah commented from where she was applying a fresh coat of lipstick, it was a bright shade of peach that matched the shirt she had changed into, one that was noticeably free of grease stains.

“So?” It came out a bit more defensive than he meant it to, but Sarah didn’t seem to notice or care.

“So, you have never cared about your hair in the eighteen years we’ve been alive.” She gave him a Look, complete with capital “L” and raised eyebrow. “What changed?” 

David blanched, struggling to form a response that wasn’t simply _Jack_. And while that was the truth it would give Sarah weeks if not months of material to tease him about. 

It was that notion in particular that seemed to kick his brain into high gear as it strung together a slightly rushed and not at all convincing, “Nothing, why would you think something's changed?” 

_Wow, way to go David._

“Oh, no reason.” But she was smirking like he had just given her all the information she needed. “Just thought it might have to do with that Jack fella we met today.”

“What?” David squawked, his whole body jolting at his sister’s words. “Jack has nothing to do with this. Why would he have anything to do with this, because he definitely has nothing to do with this.” 

“Sure David.” She had that unimpressed look on her face again, like she knew he was lying but didn’t want to put the effort into calling him on his bullshit.

 _Oh two can play at that game._ “Oh like you’re not putting effort in to impress JoJo.”

Sarah snorted, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “Close but no cigar, since one: she’s heels over head for Buttons. And two: Jo and I go back a ways, she's the one who got me into cars actually. So yeah, way off base there bud.” 

He had not seen that coming at all. In truth he had forgotten that Sarah had other friends, which sounded bad but in reality wasn’t as such, it was just that the two of them had always been outsiders of sorts and often chose to stick together instead of trying to make new friends. But then again Sarah had always been the more social of the pair so it wasn't all that surprising the more David thought about it. The whole thing was completely unfair, to both his sanity and his ego. 

“Whatever, let’s go before we’re late,” He grumbled, trying to brush it all off. 

“Eager to see your lover boy?” She drawled as they left the shared bathroom, David pointedly ignored the over exaggerated wink she gave him. 

“I’m not going to even dignify that with a response,” David shot back, jostling past her as he went to grab his keys.

“But ya just did,” she sing-songed like a little kid who thought calling people out on minor technicalities was a personality.

“You know I don’t have to drive you anywhere now that the beetle is running.” David leveled a not at all effective glare at her.

“You love me too much.” She patted his cheek as she walked past him and out the door. 

David just rolled his eyes and followed her out the door. 

The beetle stayed in the driveway.

He did in fact drive her to Medda’s. 

They got to Medda’s just as the sun was starting to hang lower in the sky, making everything a bit more gold than it had been during the height of the day. David took the lack of other motorcycles parked in front of the building to mean that they had been the first ones to arrive. It gave him a moment to breathe and recollect his thoughts that had been running a bit wild on the ride over, like wondering what Jack would be wearing (probably what he’d had on earlier) or if Jack was feeling the same nausea inducing butterflies he was (this one he could only hope was a yes), or even if agreeing to this meetup after knowing Jack all of twenty minutes was a good idea or a completely horrible one (he hoped it was the former rather than the latter). 

All of it was starting to overwhelm David and he could feel the slick grip of anxiety around his lungs as he cut the engine. _What if this was all a mistake? What if he didn’t click with them like Sarah did? What if, what if, what if…_

Sarah put a hand on his shoulder, as if she could read his mind (or maybe she could just see the anxiety settle across his shoulders) she said quietly, “Hey, it’s gonna be alright, I promise.” 

“You sure?” He asked, looking up at her. He hadn't noticed that she'd gotten off the bike.

She smiled gently at him. “One hundred percent.” 

A beat or so passed in a quiet that neither minded before Sarah spoke up again. “You know that Jack was basically falling over himself to make you smile earlier?”

“What? No way, he was just being friendly!” But the way his heart started to soar with the hope that maybe Jack had been flirting contradicted his claim.

“David,” she grabbed both of his shoulders and looked him dead in the eye, “David, for being such a genius of a little brother you are so incredibly dense. That boy was flirting so hard.” 

“One, we’re the same age. And two, there is no way a guy like Jack fucking Kelly was fliritng with me. No one ever flirts with me.” He carefully pried her hands off his shoulders before standing up, his restless energy had returned and he needed to be moving.

He saw Sarah shake her head and mumble something about “stupid boys.”

It wasn’t long before the rest of the bikers pulled into the small lot outside of Medda’s. Their engines revving loud as they all came to a stop around David and Sarah. Jack parked to their right, JoJo and Buttons to their left. The other two bikes (Crutchie had ridden with Albert, and Blink had brought Mush in for his late night shift) parked to the other side of Jack. They had a system to it, or so it seemed, and David couldn’t help but feel as though he was taking the place of someone who should have been there. But he quickly shook the feeling away when Jack gave him a radiant smile. 

“Well look who showed up after all.” The barb lacked any and all malice it could have held sheerly by the way Jack couldn’t stop smiling.

“Of course we showed up, what do you take us for?” David countered, ducking his head as a smile of his own stretched across his face. 

“Do you really want an answer to that?” Jack slung an arm around his shoulders, and for the first time in a long time David didn’t try to shrug off the contact. 

“No, not really.” He pointedly avoided acknowledging the amused look Sarah was aiming in his direction by keeping his focus on Jack. “Now are we getting shakes or not?” 

“Of course we are.” Jack turned to the rest of the group who had all dismounted from their bikes, “You heard Davey, let’s get a move on!”

The group entered Medda’s like a hurricane. Everyone talking and laughing, and just being generally loud, they were a group of teenagers after all. It was chaos in the best possible sense as they managed to cram all eight of them into one large, corner booth. David was squished between Jack and Sarah, Jack being on the outer side while JoJo, Buttons, Crutchie and Albert sat to Sarah’s left. Blink was the only one of them not yet seated, making the excuse that he would grab everyone’s shakes as long as they paid him back. 

“You just wanna go make heart eyes at your boyfriend some more,” Jack teased like it was the easiest thing in the world. Was there anything that Jack did that wasn’t effortless? Not that David had yet to see.

“Fuck you Kelly.” Blink flipped him the bird, but the sentiment was dulled by his grin. “Does everyone else want their usuals since Jacky here has to go get his own now.” 

A chorus of affirmations came from the table, along with David and Sarah calling out their preferred flavors (strawberry and chocolate respectively) and Jack’s griping about not deserving this.

Blink walked over to the bar, though not before throwing one last middle finger up at Jack, who just chuckled and gave it right back.

Once Blink was out of earshot Jack leaned in closer to David. The gesture alone made butterflies burst to life in his chest.

“He and Mush have been going steady for months now and I swear they’re gonna give each other toothaches from how sweet they are,” Jack whispered in a low voice, pointing to where the blond boy was up at the counter, talking and laughing with the boy who David had seen on the back of Blink’s bike earlier 

It was easy to see how in love they were. It made David’s heart swoop a bit, he wanted that with Jack. 

“How poetic,” he said, truly meaning it. 

Jack just nodded, letting his arm come to rest next to David’s on the laminate tabletop. Their hands were nearly touching, he would just have to move his hand ever so slightly to the right and he could link pinkies with Jack. So close yet it felt like an unbreachable distance.

But for now he would have to be content with the almost touching and the so many possibilities it held since Blink was back and handing milkshakes out to the entire table, Jack included. 

“I just realized something,” Jack said, seemingly out of the blue. He stirred his cherry shake with his straw, as though he was contemplating something great.

“And what is that?” David prompted, curious as to what was going on in Jack’s head. He set his own half full shake back on the table.

“You’re basically one of us now, right?” He had turned his full attention to David, and the amount of hopefulness in his gaze was downright dizzying. 

David nodded, not sure where Jack was going with this particular line of reasoning, but he definitely wasn't going to interrupt it by asking. 

“So you need something that shows that you’re with us.” Jack kept going when he saw David’s confused expression. “Ya know like how Buttons has her painted jacket, or how Al, JoJo and Race have patches on theirs. My bandana even, it’s stuff like that.” 

“I still don’t see where you’re going with this Jack,” David sighed, heart beating just a touch faster than it should have been.

“Ah, but you will.” Then with deft fingers Jack undid the dark blue bandana he had tied around his neck. “I have more at home, don’t worry.” And he took David’s hand, held it off the table, and tied the square of fabric around his wrist. 

David’s pulse had kicked up into his throat and he swore he could still feel Jack’s touch on his skin. He was also stuck between staring at the bandana around his wrist and the boy who had tied it there, his brain refusing to form any sort of thought that wasn’t just _Jack Jack Jack **Jack**._

“I- thanks, Jack,” he managed after what felt like much too long. “That means a lot.” 

“Yeah, no problem Davey.” Jack’s smile was warm and it looked just a little like he was pleased with himself, it was almost a shame when Albert pulled his attention to the other side of the table. 

Almost but not quite.

David truly felt lighter than air, surely this couldn’t have actually been happening and to him no less. But it was and he couldn’t have been happier about it. He had an entire summer day in his chest, complete with sunshine, butterflies fliting about and birds singing. And maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but the moment more than called for it.

He then realized that he was still holding his hand aloft, not to mention staring at it almost dreamily, so he quickly pulled it back down into his lap. He touched the fabric that was around his wrist, Jack hadn’t tied it too tight and the material was soft against his skin as though it had been through the wash a few dozen times. 

Truth be told he felt like he was in a bubble. Nothing could touch him or ruin the euphoric rush that was pumping through his veins. Not even when Sarah elbowed him gently with a knowing glint in her eye. In fact the feeling only grew, especially when Jack grabbed his hand again to hold up to the table, announcing that David was now officially part of the group. And he was sure he was going to die from an overload of emotion when Jack didn’t take his hand away, leaving them both entwined on the table. 

In short David didn’t do a lot of talking, mostly nodding along with what was being said and offering mostly monosyllabic responses when called for. And if he hadn’t been falling when the night started he was definitely plummeting towards it now. 

Nearly half an hour must have passed like that before David felt Jack stiffen next to him, the hand on his squeezing for a brief second before lifting away. And then Jack was gone. Off storming towards whoever had just waked in. 

“What the fuck did you do to him?” Jack asked at a volume that was just a bit louder than necessary, pulling all of the focus in the room onto him and who he was questioning. That turning out to be a short and rather stocky surfer in a dark red hawaiian shirt. He looked vaguely familiar to David, but he couldn’t place a name to go with the face. 

“The fuck did I do to who?” The surfer asked simply, crossing his arms and looking bored with the situation, but David had gotten good enough at reading people to see the crack in his disinterested facade that showed a sliver of worry.

“Oh you know exactly who I’m talking about. Spot.” Jack was practically shaking, and while he had a solid six inches on the guy he looked outmatched in the possibility of a fight, which was looking more and more likely with each passing second.

“And what makes you think _I_ did something?” Spot asked after a small huffing laugh. Everything about his body language was telling Jack to back off or else it wouldn’t end well for him.

The bikers around David had fallen silent, watching and waiting to jump in if they were needed. The idea of a fight breaking out churned David’s stomach uncomfortably, all of the butterflies turning to stones that sank through his chest and into his stomach. He felt anxiety spike in his breathing as he tried to keep it even. _Jack's his own person, he knows what he’s doing._

“You were fighting with him the last time I saw him.” Jack shoved Spot backwards a step or two, letting his anger run unchecked. “And he hasn’t shown up for work in two fucking days, so tell me. What. Did. You. Do.”

He heard JoJo suck in a sharp breath off to his left, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jack to see why.

“Oh and that means I just _had_ to be involved doesn’t it?” Spot to his surprise didn’t push back at Jack, he just stood there absolutely _seething_. “Maybe if you-” 

But his words were cut off by the sharp ring of the bell above the door. The sound pulling both surfer and biker away from the argument at hand.

Standing just inside the doorway was a biker David hadn’t seen before. He had on the usual leather jacket, black jeans and scuffed chuck taylors, but where the rest of the group looked carefully put together he looked like he had thrown together the look haphazardly. His shoes were coming untied, his shirt under the jacket was wrinkled beyond belief, and his hair was a mess of blond curls that stuck out in all directions. David thought he might have even had dark purple bags under his eyes, the kind that only came from a few nights without sleep. 

In a word the newcomer looked like shit. 

David felt sorry for him for walking right into the middle of the mess at hand.

“Race?” It wasn’t Jack or Spot that spoke, but rather JoJo, who looked like she had just seen a ghost. Albert wore a similar look of shock, as did nearly everyone else aside from Sarah and David.

“Hey guys,” Race greeted weakly. His voice was hoarse as he gave the room a small wave. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

And then all hell broke loose. 

Jack hauled off and swung at Spot. 

Spot dodged with ease, smirking. “That all you got Kelly?”

JoJo, Buttons, Albert, Crutchie and Blink all scrambled to get out of the booth and before David could blink they were there backing Jack up. Even David found himself standing right next to Jack, Sarah somewhere off to his left.

It was almost hypnotic as both groups paired off, one surfer to one biker, almost as if this was some dormant second nature that only kicked in under situations like these; to keep the other side from pulling others into the fight and skewing the odds.

Neither group moved. 

David’s pulse beat rabbit quick in his ears. 

Every breath in the room was a bated one. 

Then they exploded again. 

Spot feigned a step forward, and Jack flinched back before stepping back up into Spot’s face. And this time it was Race who moved, crossing the gaping distance in a few quick strides. 

Then he did something that surprised David. He shoved himself between Spot and Jack, his back to the former to face the latter. But the surprise faded quickly into a sense of understanding when he saw the way Spot reached for Race’s hand but abandoning the movement partway through, leaving his hand caught in the small space between them. 

_So that’s why he’s not swinging back at Jack. He doesn’t want to make Race angry._

“Jack stop.” Race’s voice was hard and as unwavering as the look in his steel blue eyes. 

David put a cautious hand to Jack’s shoulder, leaving it there when he didn’t shrug it off. In fact he thought he felt Jack relax ever so slightly under his touch. But then again he might have imagined it with the adrenaline pulsing through him.

“He didn’t do whatever it is you think he did,” Race continued, but his gaze had softened ever so slightly when he glanced over to David.

Conflict was written in every inch of Jack’s body. It was in the way he clenched his jaw and tried not to furrow his brow. It was in the set of his shoulders, halfway between relaxed and tensed. And it was especially in the look of raw relief in his eyes, he didn’t want to fight but he didn’t know any alternative, and Race had just given him a way out. But Race was the reason he was in this mess to begin with, so shouldn’t he be mad?

Then Jack’s shoulders slouched and his fists unclenched. He looked small for the first time ever, and his voice came out impossibly smaller, “I thought he hurt you.” 

“Oh Jack.” And Race was pulling Jack into what looked like a bone crushing hug. 

David’s focus landed on Spot, who was still standing a little closer to Race than he needed to. His inkling suspicions were further cemented when he caught the way Spot let himself smile. It was a small thing, nothing more than an upturn of lips, but in that single motion David saw all he needed to know. Spot had been just as worried about Race as Jack was, but for perhaps a vastly different reason. 

Then Spot spotted him and glared, all traces of his grin gone. But the glare felt empty, as if it was saying _you can’t tell anyone._

David just shrugged, _it’s none of my business._

They both turned back to Jack and Race, who had let go of the other and were talking quietly. 

“Are you boys done? I really don’t want to kick you out again,” Medda called from the counter. She had a very motherly energy about her, and that seemed to be what they all needed then, because any tension that had started to accumulate again was waved away. 

“Yes Miss Medda.” David almost laughed, Jack was ever the charmer, even after almost starting a brawl. 

“Good, so I can leave this to you to sort out yourselves.” She raised a brow that said if they didn’t she wouldn’t let them back in until they did.

They all nodded. They were all young adults and could handle this as such now that they weren’t at immediate risk of killing each other. 

Race nodded at Jack before turning to Spot. “You and I need to talk.” 

Spot had barely nodded before Race took him by the hand and dragged him back out the door. This was of course met with one of the surfers wolf whistling and JoJo muttering loudly about “being too tired for this shit.” 

And just like that everything started to settle back into normalcy. The bikers all went back to their booth, the surfers following suit to their own side of the diner. Conversations started to fill the room with a low background buzz.

David turned back to Jack, “You alright?” 

“Honestly? I dunno, a shit ton of things just happened and I don’t think I’ve processed all of it yet.” Jack ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that David made note of for no particular reason.

“Well we’ve got time, but for right now why don’t we focus on these milkshakes that’ll melt if we wait any longer.” David tried for a small smile, hoping that a distraction is what Jack needed.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Jack returned his grin, already reaching for his shake. “How fast do you think I can drink the rest of it?” 

David just shook his head. “Jack Kelly you are a menace to society.”

To which Jack responded with a shit eating grin and downed the shake in a minute or possibly less. And if he held David’s hand under the table the rest of the night, well no one else really had to know then did they.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy this one got long and a bit out of hand, but it's finally done and posted on christmas no less, a miracle of sorts i guess.  
> i'm just excited to actually get to the "main plot" in these next few chapters even if i'm not totally happy with how this one ended


	5. destiny's callin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i promise im not dead, college just started back up and i got swamped from the get-go, but to make up for it i present to you 3.7k words of good wlw content

_July 20, Kloppman's Garage_

The clock had just ticked past one o'clock and the temperature was still crawling steadily upwards in the definitely not air conditioned garage. This left the three occupants of said garage sweating and highly unmotivated to do anything work related. 

“Are you sure it was just the spark plug and not something else?” JoJo motioned for Sarah to start the car again. Her mouth was twisted down into a frustrated pucker.

“It ran fine on the way here, but then you saw how it crapped out.” Sarah turned the key. The beetle coughed and coughed but the engine didn't catch. It was dead as a doornail.

“This is why I like bikes better,” Buttons chirped from her perch on the workbench. “Less things go wrong.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. _And_ don't you have work to do other than bugging us?” JoJo shot her an accusatory glare. The effect of which didn't quite land due to numerous grease smears on her face that had come from rooting around under the hood.

“Yes, but you’re much more interesting.” Buttons gestured with the lollipop she had been sucking on. Her lips were blue and smirking. 

“I though you only found street racing and gossip interesting.” JoJo was hunched over the engine again, the knotted sleeves of her coveralls wiping against the dusty front of the VW. Sarah wasn’t sure when JoJo had stripped out of that part of her attire. She had to admit JoJo had very nice arms.

“What kind of gossip could possibly happen around here?” Sarah asked just as JoJo made a small disgusted noise, hopefully at the car and not at Sarah. She rested her head against the vinyl headrest, eyes drooping closed against the heat. How she longed for air conditioning and a sandwich.

“Mostly how the boys are all idiots. Check the alternator,” Buttons said. The second part directed at JoJo, who was still rooting around in the engine. 

“Ah,” Sarah exhaled, and then flinched when JoJo hit her head on the open hood, but she looked triumphant nonetheless. She cracked her eyes open again. “What kind of idiocy do they partake in?”

“It was the alternator. You’re the best babe,” JoJo said smiling. Her white tank top now had grease and other fluid stains on it. 

Buttons blew her a kiss before answering Sarah. “A better question is what haven’t they done. You saw them last night. They’re always ready to fight, or maybe make out. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.” 

Sarah let out a short cackling laugh. She peeled her head from the headrest, her hair was stuck to her skin with sweat. “That’s not surprising.” 

“Not at all. I wouldn’t recommend dating any of them though, in case you were thinking about it.” Buttons delivered it as if it were sagely advice. 

JoJo let out a wounded groan. “Don’t remind me about that.”

“Oh?” Sarah was always interested in juicy bits of gossip, especially when they fell right in her lap. And it was about JoJo no less.

“She dated our dear Racetrack for many months a few years back.” Buttons looked positively wicked as she aired JoJo’s romantic past out for Sarah to see. JoJo just groaned again and dropped her head into her hands, elbows resting on the edge of the engine compartment.

“He’s the blond one right, dating that short surfer guy?” Sarah tried to remember his face from the almost-brawl the previous night. It was fuzzy but she was sure that was the guy. He was handsome enough that she couldn’t fault JoJo for liking him once upon a time.

“The one and only,” JoJo supplied before Buttons could embarrass her further. “In my defense we young and awful at figuring out how we really felt. Plus he was a pretty good kisser,” She paused as Buttons cackled, “But now I’ve got Buttons who is less of a dumbass and a much better kisser.” This last part was punctuated with a wink in the direction of the work bench. 

“Damn right I am!” Buttons pumped a fist in the air. The wrenches behind her rattled against the wall. 

“Now what I think we need to talk about is how Sarah’s brother Davey has got Jacky Boy falling ass over tea kettle and whether we think the feelings are the same on each side.” JoJo turned her attention back to Sarah, she was smiling as though this bit of information that Sarah might have access to was more interesting than any car.

Sarah hummed to herself, thinking even though she knew the answer. It was fun watching the girls hold their breath in anticipation. “I think so, but you didn’t hear that from me, and while I’m not one to meddle or interfere with the natural order of things, but I these two might need some pushing in the proper direction if they can’t get their shit together soon.”

“Amen to that. If I have to watch them pine for longer than a week I will start a riot.” Buttons was gesticulating with her sucker again. Though by now it was practically just a stick without any candy. 

“At least you don’t live with one of them. David keeps letting out these little lovelorn sighs and I don’t think he’s taken off that bandana Jack gave him. It’s only been a day, but he’s already driving me up the wall.” Sarah drummed her thumbs on the molten steering wheel and frowned before continuing. “It’s horrible.” 

She drew out the last word to a comical length, smiling through her fake frown when Buttons snorted. It wasn’t long before both her and JoJo had dissolved into a fit of laughter that seemed only a bit over the top, but that could be chalked up to the ridiculous heat in the garage. Sarah felt a bit slap happy herself and had to suppress a giggle or two. It was nice having friends like this, she mused as she closed her eyes again. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed laughing with people who liked her jokes.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, but is Mr Kloppman here?” A voice called from the front of the garage. 

The voice belonged to a girl no older than Sarah herself. And she was rendered speechless. The girl was beautiful. The sun behind her ignited her hair into a halo of fiery curls just barely contained with bobby pins. Her face was kind, but it was also the kind that held the potential to be terrible. As she stepped farther into the auto shop Sarah could see that her clothes were neat and fit her well: a dress that was the color of a pale setting sun hung to just past her knees and buttoned up the front. It contrasted greatly with the work boots she also had on. But she still held an air of elegance, with her softly smiling lips and bright eyes.

It made Sarah shockingly aware of her own rumpled shirt and shorts that no doubt had oil stains on them after working under the Bug’s hood. Her heart had also made its way into her throat, beating rapid and erratic.

“He’s out for the day, visiting family. Can we help you miss?” JoJo’s politeness was obviously a script she read from with new customers, but the girl didn’t seem to mind.

Neither did Sarah who still couldn’t form words, she had at least managed to get out of the car, but only to stand awkwardly behind its open driver door. She smiled as she tried to cross her arms over the window edge. She ignored how the metal and glass bit into the skin of her forearms.

“Can you leave him a message?” When JoJo nodded she continued. “My name’s Katherine Plumber, and I was wondering if I could interview him for the Sun about the recent influx of local businesses that have been offered real estate deals by the Pulitzer Development. I think something fishy is a foot and I wanted his side of it.” 

“We’ll make sure he knows.” JoJo craned her head to get a look past Katherine. “I’m sorry, but is that a ‘vette you have out there?” 

Sarah was sure she was going to swoon because sure enough there was a candy apple red Corvette behind Katherine, the engine letting out soft pings as it cooled. Not only was this girl gorgeous and well dressed, she also had a car that could put her own to shame, in a race that was, the Bug was her pride and joy, nothing could change that. But Katherine was still captivating and Sarah was properly enthralled.

“Yeah, a gift from my father.” Katherine’s mouth twisted down sourly. “It gets me where I need to go.” 

“Do you want to get lunch?” Sarah blurted. Her face grew slowly redder until even the tips of her ears were the shade of Katherine’s Corvette. She fought the urge to hide it in her arms. _Way to go Sarah, always charming aren’t you?_

“Pardon?” There was a smile in Katherine’s voice that made Sarah’s heart flutter a bit now that the offending organ was back in her chest. 

“I just wondered if you’d like to grab lunch, which if you don’t it’s fine since we literally just met and I haven’t even given you my name yet. And you’re probably busy with reporter things, and _I haven’t even introduced myself yet_ ,” Sarah rambled. It was the sort of thing that always seemed to happen around pretty girls when she first met them. It might have started to become a problem. “Sorry.” 

“Why don’t you tell me your name and then I might consider lunch since my reporter things have left me rather hungry.” Katherine was smiling larger than she had been before. It was an expression of pure delight that burned away any of Sarah’s remaining nerves. 

“Sarah Jacobs, driver of cars with faulty alternators.” She held out a hand to shake now that Katherine was standing just on the other side of the door. 

“A pleasure Sarah.” Katherine’s smile was still blindingly bright and Sarah had to keep herself from ducking her head down under the intensity of it. 

“It’s all mine really,” She mumbled, cheeks still flushed pink. Katherine had let go of her hand. 

“So I take this little guy is all yours?” Katherine nodded to the Bug in all it’s bright yellow glory. 

“Yeah.” Sarah hoped her pride in the car showed in her voice or on her face at least since she wasn’t one to brag in front of girls she was trying to impress. “I would offer you a ride, but-” she gestured to the open hood “-alas I cannot.” 

Katherine cracked another smile. “I know a cute deli that’s only a few blocks away. I could drop you back here after?” She had her hands in pockets that must have been hidden in the folds of her dress since Sarah hadn't noticed them. Katherine looked daring and bright and Sarah would have burnt the world just to see that look again.

“That would be nice.” Sarah ignored the faces Buttons and JoJo were making in her direction. They would probably rag on her about this later, but that was for Future Sarah to worry about.

Katherine turned in a great swirling of sunset orange fabric and strode off towards her car. She didn’t look back to see if Sarah had followed.

Sarah had.

She slid into the passenger side with ease, the leather of the seat was warm, but not uncomfortably hot yet against the backs of her legs. It was easy to imagine driving down the coast, windows down, radio playing just loud enough to be heard. It was a nice image, especially when Katherine was right by her side in it.

Maybe if this lunch that was hopefully a date went well then that fantasy would become a reality. Sarah could only hope and do her best to not fuck anything up. 

An easy quiet fell between them, the radio humming quietly as they drove. 

“So tell me about your car,” Katherine said as they rounded a turn at a few more miles per hour than they should have. “What’s the story?”

“The Bug? Not a whole lot. A friend of a family friend had it and when it quit running they got a new car instead of fixing it. So they asked around if anyone wanted it for scrap or as a project. I said sure, and if it didn’t work out I could at least sell it and make some money.” Sarah shrugged. She kept her gaze focused on the puffy white clouds that were slowly floating by overhead.

“But that didn’t happen, you got it running?” Katherine spared her a glance as they rolled to a stop at a red light. 

“I did. Eventually. I poured so much time into that thing. I changed all the fluids, got _all_ of said fluids on my favourite shirt, then I made sure all the belts were in working order. Usual stuff, then I checked the sparkplug, which had burnt out sometime in the past four years. Changed that, and bingo, the car was running like she had never been outta commission. Perfect timing to take her to the shop, show JoJo and Buttons. And then, this is the best part, just as I’m pulling into the lot the power steering cuts out and then the yellow bastard dies completely, no warning whatsoever all of eight feet from the bay doors.” Sarah laughed at her own story when Katherine chuckled softly. 

“Sounds like quite the adventure.” She paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Do you think you could show me some of that stuff? Like how to change my oil and what to do if my car stops working?”

“I would love to!” _Woah Sarah, tone down the enthusiasm._ She took a small breath, the car smelled like warm leather and Katherine’s citrus perfume. “I mean, yeah, sure, that would be great.” 

Katherine just nodded as the Corvette pulled into a small parking lot. She expertly parked the car in a spot right in front of Jacobi’s Deli, a sign in one of the windows proclaimed the best turkey sandwiches in town. There was also a sign for cold sodas and lemonade. 

“Here we are, Jacobi’s.” Katherine made a ta-da gesture as she got out of the car. “I can guarantee this will be one of the best sandwiches of your life.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Sarah pulled herself out of the passenger seat to face Katherine over the roof of the car. The paint threw strawberry colored light onto Katherine’s face, making her look fae-like and ethereal. Sarah felt like she should look away. 

_Was this all really happening?_

“And if it isn’t?” Katherine’s playful smile was back and Sarah felt a mirroring one start to creep onto her own face.

“Well then I guess we’ll have to go out for lunch another time. My pick.” Sarah shrugged, eyes falling onto a tree just past Katherine. It was hard to keep up with the intensity of her gaze.

“I might hold you to that, regardless of sandwich quality,” Katherine said, and then made a little follow me gesture. 

_This was really happening, wasn’t it?_

They inside of Jacobi’s was blissfully cool against the sweltering summer outside. Katherine took Sarah’s hand and pulled them both over to the counter to order. The chalkboard that hung on the back wall was artfully decorated in a way that made each of the offered items feel like a work of art. BLTs and Reubens, Clubs and Monte Cristos, even the prices for the meats and cheeses in the cases were written in a loving hand. It seemed they had anything you could ever want from a delicatessen. 

“Two turkey clubs, hold the bacon, and a coke if you please Mr Jacobi,” Katherine ordered with the ease of a regular. 

“Hungry are we?” Mr Jacobi looked kind, with his crow’s feet and laughter lines. He was like that uncle that always had sweets and a fun, if maybe slightly illegal, story to tell at family gatherings.

“No more than usual, but I brought company this time.”

Sarah took that as her cue to step up next to Katherine. They were shoulder to shoulder. She smiled, not quite sure what to say that wasn’t a full blown introduction. 

“I see, has Miss Plumber here pulled you into her muckraking business?” He asked, looking up briefly from his sandwich making. He gave her a knowing look. 

“Not quite yet, but I feel she probably will.” She cast her own look over to Katherine, who had her hands in her pockets again and her ears were flushed a bright shade of pink. But she was grinning, like she couldn’t keep all of her emotions inside her person.

“I can be very persuasive,” She acknowledged thoughtfully. 

Sarah did her best not to burst into a fit of giggles. It was difficult, but she managed. Barely. 

“Two turkey clubs for the two wonderful ladies.” Mr Jacobi placed the paper wrapped sandwiches on the counter along side a bottle of coke smiling brightly at the pair. “Enjoy!” 

“Thank you.” Katherine paid, grabbed their lunch, and was pulling Sarah off towards a small booth in the back of the deli all within what felt like a heartbeat. Sarah didn’t have any time to protest that she could pay for her own food.

The booth was small, but not cramped. It was perfectly sized for the two of them. Sarah’s knees bumped against Katherine’s under the table. Neither of them moved to break the contact.

“Well, dig in.” Katherine took a sizable bite of her own sandwich, and then continued, words slightly muffled by the food. “You won’t regret it.” 

Sarah huffed a laugh before taking a bite of her own sandwich. Katherine was right, it was one of the best she had ever eaten. All of the ingredients were fresh and the mayonnaise tasted like it was homemade. She finished off half the sandwich in record time, only almost choking once near the end.

“Good, huh?” Katherine had finished half of her club as well. She was still pink from laughing at Sarah’s near death experience. 

“You weren’t lying when you said they were the best.” She admitted before taking a sip of coke. 

They fell back into a comfortable quiet as they ate more of their lunches. Sarah made a mental note to bring Les here one day, he would love it. 

“I told you about what I do, now what has your reporter business kept you up to lately?” 

Katherine lit up like Sarah had just asked the golden question. “Well, recently I’ve done some digging into Pulitzer Development and from what I’ve found they’ve been offering nearly all of the businesses within a half mile of the beach a sales deal. Which is pretty fishy right? So I dug a little further and found the plans for a vacation resort that would sit right where all these local businesses are. That’s why I wanted to talk to Mr Kloppman since he’s one of the businesses in the “blast zone” for lack of a better word. I need to find a way to stop this from happening, and if I can get a story published on the front page then maybe people won’t sell out and we’ll get to keep our town the way it is.” She leaned in conspiratorially, “but between you and me, I have another backup plan in case I can’t get my story printed in time. It’s much more, slippery, but it’s almost guaranteed to work. Granted I get people to help me.” 

Sarah blinked a bit. That was a lot of potentially life changing information in such a short time, but as it all sank in Sarah found herself smirking. “What can I do?” 

“My story is slotted to run in the Friday paper, but the backup needs to be in place before then. How many people can you round up before the end of the week?” Katherine had a spark in her eyes. The brown turned to fire in the very depths. Sarah was quite possibly in love. 

She thought for a moment, taking a mental roll call of all the bikers she had met in the past couple of days as well as others she knew fairly well. “Ten at least, but I think I know people who can get more involved. Why?” 

“Why we need to come up with battle strategy of course.” There was no denying the terrible edge that had settled into Katherine’s face. She was ready for a war and she was going to win.

“We’ll need a meeting place. Do you know where Medda’s is?” Sarah felt something ignite deep in her chest. She was ready for this fight and all it entailed. 

“Right off the beach?” Katherine took a swing of soda. _An indirect kiss_ , Sarah thought with a smile.

“That’s the place. I’m sure Jack can talk Medda into letting us have the space for a few hours, granted that we pay for the food we eat.” Sarah’s mind was whirring. 

“Sounds perfect.” Katherine checked her watch and the bumped knees with Sarah. “I need to be off, last minute story edits with Denton.” 

“I should be getting back as well, the Bug calls.” Sarah stood carefully. She felt positively electric with what had happened and what was still to come. 

They threw out their trash and climbed back into the Corvette. The drive back to the garage felt short, too short, compared to the drive to the deli. It was, Sarah realized, because she didn’t want her time with Katherine to come to an end. 

But alas, the world keeps turning and time goes on, and she found herself standing on the outside of the cherry red Corvette once more. 

“See you Friday? Seven thirty?” She leaned in through the open window, the sun hot on her back. 

“Seven thirty is perfect.” Katherine leaned across the console and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “See you then.” 

Sarah smiled again and took a step back, hands in pockets as Katherine pulled out of the lot. She vaguely heard Buttons wolf whistle, but she ignored it. 

She touched a hand to her cheek. 

_That had really happened._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the plot has arrived!! the gang is gonna take down pulitzer and it's going to be epic! up next we get more of the boys being dumbasses, but with slightly better communication skills, and katherine's slightly devious plot against her father


	6. meant to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise i'm not dead, college is just kicking my ass with 18 credit hours so i'm sorry if updates become a little farther between than i had initally promised. but as penitence i give you sprace being soft and talking about their feelings

_July 20, Higgins’ Residence_

Spot wasn’t exactly sure how his life had landed him here. Here being the bedroom of one Edward Anthony Higgins on a summer day hot enough to fry an egg. But he wasn’t really complaining. There were worse places to find oneself than the bedroom of your lover on a too hot afternoon. 

He watched quietly as Race changed the record on his player. Soft rock began to float through the room like the dust motes that danced in the sunlight. He could make out the lyrics if he focused, but otherwise it was just a pleasant white noise in the background.

Race stood back up, smiling fondly. Spot liked this Race best. This was the one that didn’t don armor against a world that seemed bent against him. This Race was soft, relaxed, in his worn out jeans and a soft blue tee shirt. It was hard to imagine this Race existing outside his sun soaked bedroom and out in the real world. It was this Race that Spot was maybe, just maybe, falling in love with. If he hadn’t already fallen that was. 

“So,” Race started and then promptly trailed off as he sat down onto the bed. The mattress dipping under his and Spot’s weight. After the incident that was last night they had agreed to talk about the things that went beyond making sure the other was alright. So here they were, trying to talk about their feelings. 

Neither of them were any good at it, but they were more than willing to try.

“So,” Spot prompted, leaning his head against Race’s shoulder. He smelled like soap and summer, and Spot never wanted to move again. He was pretty sure this was what being home was supposed to feel like.

“Are we dating, is that what this is?” Race had started to bounce his knee, he kept his gaze trained to the opposite wall, pointedly not looking at Spot. He wasn’t any better than Spot when it came to broaching these sort of things, it gave Spot a small sense of relief. They were in this together, missteps and all.

“Yeah, I’d really like to be your boyfriend if you’d have me.” His gut twisted and it took all of his willpower to not stare at Race. If he did he wasn’t sure what he would do. Something stupid probably. Race made him stupid in a lot of ways, but not all of them bad.

“I’ll have you for as long as you’ll have me.” Race finally turned to him, smile tentative and soft. All of his nerves melted away into the summer sunshine. 

“Good.” Spot carefully took Race’s hand, linking their fingers together. He kept his focus on their joined hands. It was an interesting contrast. His own sun spotted and rough from days spent in the ocean where Race’s was pale and host to a dozen different nicks and cuts from working with engines day after day. He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but it felt like he might have been holding the entire universe in that one hand. 

“Spot,” Race said quietly, pulling Spot from his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long they had been just sitting there, holding hands and existing in the other’s space.

“Hmm?” He looked up. Race was staring at the wall again, jaw clenched anxiously. 

“Are we going to tell any of them about us?” The question was impossibly _quiet_ coming from Race, someone who didn’t really do the whole quiet thing. “I mean, JoJo knows, but that’s, different.”

His grip on Spot’s hand tightened enough to be more than just a reassurance. Spot felt himself tense, eyes prickling dangerously. He didn’t think he would ever stop having nightmares about that night no matter that things had turned out fine. His voice shook when he finally said, “I told Rafaela that night, after I thought maybe we were over with.” 

Race reacted almost instantly, pulling Spot to his chest and tucking him under his chin.His own worries momentarily forgotten in favor of comforting Spot, a fact that made him press that much further into Race’s chest. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I think we were both scared shitless, and for what it's worth I’m glad you had someone to talk to,” Race whispered into his hair, hand rubbing slow, continuous circles into his back.

Spot took a shaky breath. He hated feeling like this. Fragile. Breakable. Weak. It wasn’t who he was. Spot Conlon was brave and fearless. He protected his family and his heart with the ferocity of a lion. He didn’t break. He just didn’t. But maybe it was only fair that he broke down now. Maybe the proof of his bravery was being able to be vulnerable around those he cared for. And here in Race’s arms he felt pretty damn vulnerable. 

He hadn’t realized his tears had fallen until he pulled back and saw the damp places on Race’s shirt. “Sorry, fuck. I was just so damn scared that I lost you that part of me still doesn’t believe that I haven’t.”

Race put a hand to Spot’s cheek, thumb rubbing away a stray tear. “You can’t get rid of me that easy. You’re stuck with me babe.” 

Laughter burst from Spot, surprising and bright. Leave it to Race to alleviate things with a wisecrack, and have it actually work. “Thanks Race.”

“Anytime you need it, Spotty.” Race dropped a kiss into his hair. 

They didn’t let go of each other for a long time. The record played to its end, tapering off into a tangible sort of quiet. Even the sun seemed to forget they were there, its golden light shifting before casting the room into a blue shadow from the tree outside Race’s window. 

“Run away with me,” Race whispered, the words holy in his mouth.

Spot’s heart stuttered in his chest because he would. _He would._ He would do it without question and that was fucking terrifying. But instead all he said was, “I can’t.” 

Because that was the reality of things. He couldn’t drop his life to live out a teenage fantasy with Race no matter how badly he wanted to. His friends, his _family_ , needed him and he couldn’t leave them like that. Family that mattered didn’t do that.

“Just for the day then. We can run away for today.” Race kissed his temple. His forehead. His cheek. His jaw. All before kissing his lips. 

And everything was soft, soft, _soft._

“That I can do,” Spot replied, barely pulling far enough away to form the words.

They sank back into kissing as easily as breathing. They kissed until they were breathless, and then they kissed some more. 

“Let’s go, before it gets dark,” Race murmured against his lips, already lifting himself and Spot off the bed. 

The drowsiness of the afternoon slipped away as they quickly grabbed everything they would need. Race with his jacket and helmet, and Spot with a borrowed flannel overtop his faded tank top. 

Anticipation was fizzing through Spot’s veins as they said their goodbyes to Race’s aunt. It reached its peak when Race pulled him out of the garage and over to the bike that was the envy of many.

“You have to ride behind me and hold on, but I don’t think you’ll mind that too much.” Race was grinning wildly as he mounted the motorcycle, his own excitement pouring off of him in waves.

Spot slipped on behind him, grinning just as bright. His arms wound around Race’s waist, while his cheek pressed to the patch covered shoulder of Race’s jacket. Contentment bubbled up in his chest like champagne when he realized he fit perfectly. He didn’t mind a single bit.

“All ready back there?” Race asked, voice slightly muffled by his helmet. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Spot replied all too happily. 

He had just barely gotten the words out when Race hit the gas and they took off down the summer streets like they had nothing left to lose. The sun bleached landscape blurred into a continuous stream of green, brown and yellow as they got farther and farther out of town. The buildings became fewer and farther between as Race drove them who knows where. But where they were going didn’t matter to Spot. He had Race solid and steady before him, and that’s all he could have possibly asked for. 

Spot wasn’t sure how long they rode for, just that after enough time squinting into the sun he closed his eyes and left the destination to surprise him. He felt the bike slow to a stop before Race cut the engine. 

“C’mon sleeping beauty we’re here.” Race patted his arms as Spot pried open his eyes. The sun was still bright, but they'd been on the road long enough that it was starting to dip towards the horizon. 

“‘M not sleeping,” Spot grumbled, but he was already grinning, even as Race tried to push him off the bike. To which he only held on tighter before eventually letting go to take in the scenery.

It was absolutely beautiful. Race had brought them to a bluff that overlooked the ocean for miles and miles. Everything was shades of green and gold. Green grass, golden sun. The waves below were teal and the beach was more pink than tan in the dying light. The crash of the waves was barely audible, but it was there like a heartbeat in Spot’s ears.

It took his breath away.

“Race, this is-” But he couldn’t finish the thought, too enamoured by everything around him. “How’d you know about this place?”

“I used to come up here a lot, dunno why I stopped though.” Race came to stand next to Spot. “We could make it ours if you’d like.”

Spot looked first to the hand that was hanging just inches away from his own, then to the face of the boy it belonged to. Race was haloed in the fading light, curls turned to fire. “I think I’d like that a lot. Our own little piece of paradise.” 

Race just smiled and laced their hands together. 

The entire universe fell into place as they watched the sun set into the sea and the world was painted in watercolor.

“I wouldn't have pegged you as a romantic,” Race murmured once they had sat down to stare up at the stars slowly fading into view. He had his head in Spot's lap, face turned to the sky.

“That’s because you never asked,” Spot quipped softly, running a hand through Race’s already messed up curls. “If you do you’ll find I’m full of surprises.” 

Race just blinked up at Spot, his eyes the same depthless blue as the sky above them. He could almost make out the faint stars reflected in them. Spot’s movements stilled when he felt a hand cup his jaw. 

“Like what?” Race’s voice was still barely more than a whisper, and it was so different than the loud and boisterous version of Race that Spot had met all those months ago. The way his thumb was idly brushing over his cheek was different too, softer than they had been even a week previous. He never wanted to back from this.

Spot closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “I like sunsets, but sunrises are better because you have the whole day ahead of you. I can name almost all of the summer constellations. And I found a book of poetry at the library and fell in love with the medium, but if you tell anyone that they won’t believe you.”

“Ah yes, Mr Big Scary Reputation, who would ever believe you’re actually soft.” Race sat up as he spoke so he sitting cross legged, knees pressed to Spot’s. He still had a hand on Spot’s face and he was staring at Spot as though he’d hung the stars. 

“You. Only you.” It felt like a confession. It _was_ a confession in a way. Except Spot hadn’t realized just how true it was until he spoke it aloud. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was certain it was always going to be Race. It would only ever be Race. In a million moments just like this, it was always going to be Race there with him. 

Edward Anthony Higgins was the love of his life and there was no denying it. 

“I think I love you,” Race breathed out, eyes wide but unafraid. 

“I think I love you, too,” Spot said, just as sure and soft. He watched as an errant tear slipped down Race’s cheek before he reached up and wiped it away. 

They kissed again, slow and gentle and everything else they couldn’t say with words. 

More stars began to wink into existence above them, a patchwork sky of blue and black and shining point of light. A blanket to keep them safe.

Race pulled back just far enough to look at Spot, and Spot looked right back and realized no one had ever looked at him the way Race did. No one had ever looked at him with that much love and adoration without a whisper of fear or caution. Race loved with everything he had and Spot was going to make sure he never let it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was a little bit shorter than all the rest, since i'm still trying to get my writing muscles back, but i really liked it since it's not often i write these boys being this soft. also if you want a good song to listen to that heavily inspired parts of this chapter i suggest The Way You Do (Acoustic) by Dalton Rapattoni

**Author's Note:**

> as always comments are amazing and the feedback really does keep me writing, so let me know what you thought!  
> and come talk to me about this au on tumblr @ad-astra-de-luna my inbox and messages are always open!


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